Letters to the Editor
by Kitten1313
Summary: Alfred Jones, a name Peter knows well. Though he's never seen the man in person, no the reporter has always been a mystery so he sends a few simple letters in hopes of meeting his idol. For Alfred, his life seems to be falling apart and while he doesn't know Peter, the little boy's last name brings up memories he'd wish he could forget.
1. Chapter 1

Editor's note: The following is all true, every bit even as strange as it sounds. Though I doubt most will believe that in the middle of the Holiday season I, being but a kid, could bring a family that had long been separated by pain and misplaced hatred. This is their story.

My town was a decent size, two thousand at best, though compared to Harrisburg or Philly it was pretty small. Back then we were spread out, I remember loving it. That while I had neighbors that were close I also had open woods that circled my home, a creek to play in and most importantly hills for snow sledding. That I remember so clearly, a bunch of us kids with cheap plastic sleds in hand trekking up one of those monster hills for that five seconds of speed.

Sometimes I'd end up crashing into a pile of snow, laughing loud as I dusted the snow from my blond hair. Before I'd pick up my sled and go back at it until well into the twilight when our parents would holler for us to come home.

Maybe that's what first drew me to the newspaper. The articles on page five; The best sledding spots in all of PA; How to make perfect snowballs . Many I would read, then when my Papa was finished with it, would cut them out to save, much to his own amusement. In fact I'm sure if I looked hard enough I could still find one or two tucked away in an old book or shoe box. Yellow and worn with age I had saved them for a few years until I took noticed that they were all written by the same man.

By Alfred Jones.

I remember being so enthralled, wondering what he must have done and seen in his life to be able to write about, not just common local news but talk about far off lands that I, being twelve with no internet, could only imagine. Some would stir such an interest that I would sneak into Papa's National Geographic just to see them, then oh how my eyes would widen even more. I yearned for so much more and soon my curiosity got the best of me.

Who was this man and did he have more to tell? Stories and ideas that had yet to be discovered and if so, would he tell them if asked?


	2. Chapter 2

It was cold that year, it was barely December yet there already had already been a light dusting of snow, nothing to play in but just enough to get us all excited. With the light snow came another round of articles and finally I worked up the nerve to write a simple letter. It was short though I remember handing it over to my Papa for him to read anyway. He glanced over it, coffee cup still in his other hand. As he sipped the hot liquid his eyes turned to me before going back to it. "So?" I asked, worried beyond belief that I had written something stupid.

"It's fine." He answered handing it back to me after another moment. My Father had always been a man of few words so while it seemed small it felt like a huge gratification for me. "But," he continued folding his hands together. "Don't put your last name." With another sip, he picked up both his plate and mine of half eaten eggs and toast.

I at first was confused. "Why?" I asked with a childish ignorance.

Once he scraped his plate clean my father managed a low chuckle before patting my head. "Trust me little bear."

Today I know why, or at least I could understand. While I read everything about this man I didn't know him. I didn't know one real thing about him yet, I saw him as a Clark Kent, how naïve as it seemed but still the temptation was too great so I ignored my father's wish and wrote out my last name. Before he could see what I did I shoved the letter into an envelope and licked it closed. So, I was ready to grab a stamp as he wrote out the address but instead he pocketed it without a second thought. "Papa?"

"I'll make sure it gets to him don't worry." His tired smile reassured me so I gathered my things and raced out to the car. "Make sure he does." I said grabbing the door handle. "I want to know what he says."

In slow strides, he walked out, locking the door behind him. "Oh, I'm sure he'll tell you all about his trips to Canada and the like."

How clearly, I remember that day as a few snowflakes started to fall sticking to the window. Normally I would have been dreaming of snowball fights but instead my thoughts drifted to my hero, Clark Kent. Perhaps even, I dreamed he really was a sort of Superman.

Really, I was a bit far from the truth Miles away at the large press building that loomed in the older part of town my 'hero' was busy. Not at work but trying to succeed at his smoke break. "God, damn it." He groaned, trying his hardest to lift the small window in his office. With every wiggle, it inched up until finally the room was filled with the icy cold wind blowing that day. A wide smile grew on his face as he opened his pack, annoyed that he only had four more. After making a mental note to add it to his list of errands he tried, in vein to get one light. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Maybe it's a sign ta quit."

With a light moan, Alfred turned to the door, a weak fake smile plastered on his face. "Oh Boss I didn't know you cared so much, really I'm touched."

The green-eyed man simply rolled his eyes unamused. "Never said I did." Was his answer as he walked in, tossing his own lighter. "But really don't you have anything better ta do today besides trying yer luck with another window?"

"Hey ladies love large ass scars." Quickly his large hands had a small flame and before long both stood by the window smoking. "And its not my fault these windows are from the last century so they have a mind of their own."

"So it ain't your fault that yah can't go out and smoke in the parking lot like another person?"

"I'll freeze my balls off," he chuckles before turning to a pack of pictures on his desk. "So anyway, where am I going this year?" When the red-haired man chuckled Alfred felt his stomach drop. "Come on, I'll even buy my own damn ticket."

"Really Lad, yah act like it's shite around 're." His gruff voice made his thick accent hard to understand and if Alfred hadn't known the man for years it would have been impossible. Allistor took no notice either way as he continued. "Last I checked there's worse places in this world ta be."

"Yeah, I know but, how do you expect me to get anywhere just writing fluff pieces?" When he wasn't answered, Alfred tried another tactic. "You know I'm not asking to go looking for hidden Nazis in Brazil, just Christmas traditions in other parts of the world."

"Nice try but yer arse is stayin' put." With that Allistor snuffed out the ruminates of his cigarette and made a bee line for the door. "Oh and before I go, yah have a letter."

"From who?"

"How the hell should I know? I ain't psychic. Maybe it's a bit of fan mail." He held it to his forehead jokingly. "Or it might be someone's manifesto."

"I highly doubt it, that shit was hundreds of pages long." He reached his hand out for the simple envelope noticing that there was no return address "Unless well it is the bomb but I think they'd be after you and not me."

"That's Ireland yah Yank." It came with a soft glare. "Then again yer arse couldn't point out Russia on a fuckin' map so, I ain't surprised."

"Dick." Alfred answered playing with the envelope. "You told me to find Tibet and you know it." With a shake of his head the blonde haired man reached for his pocket knife. "So Comrade you better get your facts straight." His smile was genuine until he finished my letter that is. Allistor watched him, as the color seemed to drain out of his face.

"Is it…is it a letter?"

As quick as Alfred could, he folded up the letter, tucking it safely away in his back pocket. "No, nothing like that." He answered after what felt like eternity. "Just um wasn't expecting this kind of thing."

"What kind of thing?"

"Uh…" Alfred's voice trailed away. "It's just a letter from a fan."

"Crazed?"

"A kid, some little dude."

At this Allistor laughed almost amused at the notion. "Well don't let it scare yah now. Lads, well are rather curious and with all them tales you have," again he laughed now completely relieved it wasn't anything serious. "So consider it flattery and really if the kid means well acknowledge him in your next article."

"Why the hell should I do that?" His voice seemed to bounce up an octave making Allistor pause, a eyebrow raised in his direction. "I mean you know he doesn't want much and besides that might well…"

"What? Keep him excited to read more?" This time the younger looked away, his face turning a slight shade of red. "Look, as much as I'd love ta say that this internet web thing isn't going to last we both know it's 're ta stay and we have ta fight to stay on top."

"Rise against the machines huh?"

"Damn right so answer the fan and maybe," Allistor slowly took the door handle, opening the door as the warmth of the hallway started to file in. "Maybe I'll send your arse on location for at least a week or two." Without waiting for an answer the Scottish man was gone.

Alfred unfolded the letter, reading then rereading the words. As he brought his cigarette to his lips the back window slammed shut, echoing through the small room. He didn't move, barely noticed as he slipped the letter into his top drawer before leaving himself. Destined to get another pack of cigarettes and an address.


	3. Chapter 3

Soon the small flakes turned to large balls of white sticking to everything. Though we couldn't go out to play in it just yet it was everything on my mind, at least for a bit. It wasn't long before my mind was elsewhere, high in the Japanese mountains playing in a hot spring along with many snow monkeys as a voice described the history of the place to me. It was a soft angelic voice that had me captivated. "Normally we wouldn't get this close." The male voice said so warmly that I would have thought the man had done this countless times before. "But it's safe right now, so I say let's join them."

I felt a strong hand on my shoulder causing the illusion to vanish, leaving me craving more of the world I had just been in. "Peter?"

"Yes, Ma'am I was listening." I quickly said, my head snapping to attention. I knew if I was caught daydreaming yet again she would no doubt call my father.

There came a slight chuckle. "Then dear you should have noticed that recess had started unless of course you wanted to spend it in her with me." Her gentle green eyes sparkled warmly as she winked at me. "So?"

Before she could say another word, I had dashed out, grabbing my coat on the way. I didn't have to be told twice after all but, I did wonder who the owner of the voice was. Perhaps Alfred? Today I would laugh at the thought but, well who else would it had been? Again, my thoughts were interrupted, this time by a snow ball to the side of my head.

"Peter pay attention! We're under attack!" Daniel cried out as he dove towards me, knocking both of us into the snow. Just as I was about to raise my head two snow balls flew past, missing us by inches. It was war and I'd be damned it I let the older kids win.

Soon the war which we had fought so hard in, was over with the ring of the school bell. Each group claiming victory in the mass chaos before rushing back inside trailing a mass of mud and water as we went.

Again I found it was hard to concentrate on the work before me and again I found the voice in the back of my mind, telling me stories of far off lands. I vowed that I'd fine the man behind the voice no matter how long it would take me.

Little did I know, I would never get to meet the man behind the stories nor would I ever understand how I knew his voice in the first place. It was a voice some people remembered, and one a lucky few would never forget. One of those lucky was sitting alone in a bar reading over his work as his sandwich laid untouched.

"Figures I'd find you here."

My father barely looked up, instead managing a lone sigh. "Shouldn't you be at work?" He pretended to reread the reports in front of him as he watched the tall blonde man sit next to him.

Alfred ordered a beer along with a side of fries before answering. "Shouldn't you be two states over with that wife of yours?" His voice had a faint air of hatred and pain that neither wished they hear. "Or did you dump her too?"

It cut my father deep yet he barely blinked. "How is your mother?"

"How about you go fuck yourself?"

Only then did my father lay his work down, turning to the man beside him, a glint of anger in his eyes. "Excuse me?"

Alfred's cocky smile was gone as he let out a stutter. "Nothing, she's fine." He muttered into his beer averting his eyes. The younger man had been in many fights before and while he wanted nothing more than to instigate the older man further, Alfred wasn't stupid. He came for answers so getting into a fight, no matter how much better he would feel afterwards, would give him nothing in the end. "Dealing with Grandmother and shit."

"Mhm." My father answered turning back to his work as his hand lazily moved towards his own whiskey. After taking a sip it was time to fill the awkward silence that had grown between them. "He reads all of your articles."

"Does he know who I am?"

"Nope."

Alfred downed the rest of his beer before motioning for another. "I'm not surprised," he said picking up the drink. "Why bring up me after all?"

He didn't say another word as my father stood, collecting his things. Once he was finished he turned to the tall blonde. My father wanted to say so much to the man but when he opened his mouth, only a few words came out. "He's twelve." It stopped Alfred cold but before Alfred could say a word, my father placed a twenty down and walked out. "That's for your drinks as well…try not to get too drunk. It's not even five yet."

It wasn't until the door slammed shut that Alfred moved again. "Twelve…" He said to himself over and over again as if he couldn't comprehend what he was just told. "God damn it."

"Sir?"

"Nothing." Alfred answered as he stood to leave. "But does he come in often?"

The bartender shrugged as he picked up the untouched sandwich. "Every day like clockwork."

"Figures." Was all he said as he grabbed a hand full of his fries as Alfred too, walked out into the waning light.


	4. Chapter 4

Soon Sunday came and there on page five was my letter printed under the letters to the editor section. The editor gave me a few kind words of advice but, I was more interested in what Alfred wrote underneath.

"Hey Buddy," he wrote, "I'd love to tell you all about my trips the Ukraine and Poland. In fact, I'm going back there after Christmas so when I get back I'll have a lot more stories to share. Hopefully you can wait just a bit longer, hard I know but, to tie you over until then I have a few awesome stories about Pennsylvania."

It sent a feeling of pure joy though me. Sure, I knew a bit but even after reading his small article on Hershey I was still craving more. More about him, and if he grew up here so again I raced to get a pen and paper, going to work frantically while the questions were still fresh in my mind. Again, I signed my name and sealed it before handing it to my father.

This time he barely looked at it as he took it. It wasn't until he saw my look of disappointment that he offered me a smile. "Don't worry I'll make sure he gets it." He patted my head as he opened his arms, offering a warm hug. "Now run along and go play in the snow."

As quick as a flash I was out the door wondering why I saw a hint of sadness in his eyes. He had always hidden his pain from me, especially after we had moved here years before. I knew about my mother, how she lived and sadly how she died. Looking back, it was the same pain in his eyes that day, the same pain that would appear whenever I asked about her. He was reliving a memory that he would have rather forgotten, even if I didn't fully understand why.

Regret perhaps. Regret in knowing that if things were different where he would be and who would still be by his side. But, then at the same time, who wouldn't be and that I know ate him the most. It wasn't just him though that had regrets and thoughts of what might have been.

Like my father, Alfred wondered many of the same things even as he tried his best to avoid it. Again, he retrieved my letter, read it then reread it over and over until he knew every word by heart. Again, he gave it to the editor but instead of getting two answers that Wednesday I only retrieved one.

I won't lie and say I wasn't disappointed as well as worried that I had asked too much this time, that I had somehow over stepped my boundaries in asking Alfred on tales of his childhood. Perhaps in my haste I had somehow upset the man and that I should try to apologize in my next letter. So as I marched up one of the many snowy hills I made up my mind that the moment I got home I would write another one.

Though as I reached the top of the hill, looking down at my friends below I noticed a man leaning on a nearby tree, smoking as he watched us play. It wasn't strange, it was an open park and I wrote it off as one of my friend's older brothers sneaking a smoke before their mothers caught them.

So I sledded down then made my way up again. Not noticing he smile planted on his face, his own mind seeming lost in thought as he watched us for a few minutes. "Damn," he muttered to himself as a memory flashed back to him. It made the smile on his face widen, that was until he saw me flip on my sled, sending me sliding down the snowy hill.

Quickly he shoved his cigarette down into the snow as he raced over to me as the other kids gathered. I poked my head up, half buried by my sled as he reached for my arm. "You okay Buddy?" He asked seeing my hair full of snow.

I nodded letting him stand me up before I went back to my sled. It was cheap plastic but I loved the red color so I was still disappointed to see that it had broken on my way down. "I'm fine but…" He picked it up and shoved it under his arm.

"They don't make them like they used to." He laughed as a few strands of his blonde hair fell into his eyes. "Back when I tackled these hills we had wooden ones and man did we fly down these snow banks." Again, he laughed as the kids gathered around him. "See the goal was to get as fast as you could then to make a ramp cause once you got both done right, well you'd be flying well until you landed that is."

His face lighted up instantly as again more memories flooded back to him. It was a torrent that kept us all enthralled until the sun was starting to set. Soon many kids were waving goodbye to our new-found friend until it was just me and him. I knew who he was, the way he spoke was exactly the way he wrote. "Alfred?" I asked as we walked together towards the sidewalk. "Can I ask you something?"

He nodded as he reached for a cigarette. "You're wondering why I didn't answer you huh?" When I looked down he light his cigarette. "Well," he paused for a moment, as if trying to find the words to say, "I wasn't sure if they were interesting enough. I doubted if my stories were anything special." He gave a shrug as he turned to walk the opposite way.

"Wait, what about my sled?"

He turned back, a twinkle in his eyes. "I'll make sure Santa brings you a new one."

Oh how today this would be a red flag, a reason to worry but, in my eyes it was so innocent, so amazing that this man not only came to talk to me but also knew Santa. "Really!?"

"Yeah Buddy." He chuckled walking away. It was innocent, him just being nice thankful that I was alright after taking that tumble. In fact I didn't notice but there was a large crack that jutted out in a sharp point. He hide it under his arm until he arrived home where he shoved it into his own trashcan along with his cigarette butt.

"Alfred?" He heard as the back door opened, letting the kitchen light eliminate the yard.

He looked up before sliding the lid back on the trashcan. "Yeah Mom?"

"What are you doing?" She shivered in the cold as she wrapped her robe around her tightly. "Because your girlfriend called."

"Oh fantastic." He sighed, walking up to the door. "What did you tell her?" Alfred kissed her on the cheek before venturing into the warmth of the small home.

Chenoa couldn't help but smile as she closed the door behind her, seeing the bit of red poking out in the soft light. "What I tell her every time she calls, but I'm going to ask again…. what exactly where you doing?"

"Promise not to get mad?"

She watched him, her dark eyes searched for any signs that her son had gotten into the normal trouble she was used to. "Will a cop be at my door soon?"

"I doubt it."

"Then I'll get some coffee…because I feel like it might be a long story."


	5. Chapter 5

It was hard for her to hear, at least that's what she pretended to show anyway. Chenoa had known about me for quite some time. In the beginning she was angry as any scorned woman would be but, she wasn't one to hold a grudge. It was karma, or fate that made up the rules and letting anger consume yourself would only destroy one person, yourself. It was a interesting way of looking at life but she believed in it, heart and soul. So when my father would call, she would answer no matter what.

"Alfred…" She said after he was finished, laying her hand on his knee. "Don't do anything stupid."

"I don't plan on it Mom…I just wanted to see this kid for myself."

Her grip on his knee tightened as she caught his eyes. "What happened was between me and him. Don't bring that little boy into it." Her voice was stern until he nodded. "Good." She reached out, kissing his forehead warmly. "Now what do you plan on doing?"

"Honestly," he stopped picking up his lukewarm coffee, "I want to get him a sled, like a good one. Not another piece of plastic crap he was using." As he sipped Alfred let his mind travel until finally he spoke out again. "I'm still going."

"I won't see you doing anything else." Chenoa answered as she tidied up around him. "You're just like your brother, never letting anything stop you." She stopped, watching him from the corner of her eyes. It had been some time since she had mentioned him, it had been over three years since the accident but, it still felt at least to Alfred that it had happened only the day before. So, she wasn't surprised to see Alfred staring into his cup. "Just promise to come back and to give me a call every once in a while."

At that he forced a smile. "Just for you Mom and should I call Grandmother too?" It had a teasing tone that broke the tension that had started to build around them.

"Oh your Grandmother, don't forget about her whatever you do." It came with an eye roll that made her son laugh loudly.

"Aww don't worry Mom," Alfred stood wrapping his arms around his mother's shoulders pulling her into a hug. "I'd never forget about her, I mean my god she might curse me or something."

"Don't tempt me child." A voice came from behind him as he felt a tap of a cane on his thigh. "Worse thing I can do is make yah fall for that woman thing that keeps calling."

"Mother."

Again, Alfred laughed before kissing the elderly woman on the top of the head. "You really have a way with words don't you Grandmother?"

His Grandmother looked up at him with a sly smirk on her face. "I learned this wonderful language just to tell men to fuck off." She gently slapped Alfred on the cheek lovingly as Chenoa hid her eyes in embarrassment. "Why do you think I married your Grandfather?"

Alfred couldn't help himself as he smiled. "Cause he wasn't afraid of you?"

"Nope, he was smart. When I told him to fuck off he simply cocked his head and acted like he didn't understand a word I said." With that his grandmother chuckled as Chenoa looked up in silent prayer to the heavens. "Oh hush child, you know that man would do it with everyone he came to see."

"Mother I swear."

"Not in front of me, I taught you better than that."

With a stifled laugh, Alfred took that opportunity to sneak away to the safety of the second floor. It was a small house, with his room in the attic not that he minded after all. While it was cold, he was normally just drunk enough not to care about the slight chill. Sure, he could have a room on the second floor but, for him it would always be Matthew's room.

As the two women talked below him, he came to stop in front of the first door on the left of the landing. It was always closed unless his mother was inside cleaning it though that only happened every few months now. Slowly he walked towards the door, knocking on it just loud enough for his own ears to pick up. "Mind if I come in?" He asked to the air, then after pausing enough for an answer to be made he opened the door and slid in without making the slightest noise.

It was a decent size room, big enough for a twin sized bed, desk and books of every color and size scattered around the room. On one side hung a large Canadian flag and on the opposite a weathered map of the world with tacks of different colors pushed into various points on the world.

After breathing in the familiar smells of the room, Alfred sat down on the soft bed to stare at the map. "Well, I'm a bit behind you but, well…" He bit his lip as he rested his head in his hands. "I'm leaving and I'll be damned if I don't come back with stories that rival yours." His voice cracked as if whoever that was listening would be somehow disappointed in anything less. "Thanks though, you know for letting me use some of them."

He turned away from the map feeling the same pain bubbling up from his heart. "All of them…God Matt what the fuck am I doing with my life?" He looked down at the long scar etched into his arm, his mother still thought it was a cry for help and some nights he thought the same thing. "I'm not the hero I think I am, that those kids see me as. I'm a fucking mistake that somehow managed to get this far." His eyes glanced back at the map as if waiting for an answer that wouldn't come.

After what felt like hours he stood up, walking over to the desk he pulled out a box of tacks, then after looking through the various colors found a yellow one. "The Ukraine…didn't get there did yah?" His smile was weak as he drove it into the spot on the map that the nation would be. "I doubt you knew the name but I know you would have taken a plane on the first flight if you had the chance. So, for us, I'll keep going."

With that he walked out, hearing only his footsteps on the hard wood floor. "Twenty one and already saw so much of this world…and in three years what have I done to add to it?" Again, it was a question he didn't want answered, just another one of his personal demons sneaking to the surface to torment him and all night it would until with the help of a few beers it would be returned the depths of his mind.

So quickly he left the room that once brought him peace when no one else could, to be by himself at least until his alarm clock would ring out in the morning. Once the light was turned off and the door closed the room returned to its silent state, except for one thing. Each tack on the map so carefully pushed in started to move, falling lightly on the desk below it, all except three. One red sitting quietly on Japan, the yellow stuck tightly on Ukraine and the final tack, a white one, pressed firmly into the USA exactly where Pennsylvania would be.


	6. Chapter 6

That night I dreamed again of a distant land with that voice beside me, sweet, calm and brotherly. He was telling me wonders of a lost world swallowed up by the large nation beside it. Customs, faith, hope of it's people clinging to what it once had. I wouldn't learn about it again until well into my high school years. Then, then how I would stare at the black and white pictures with lost tears in my eyes, the rest of the class unknowing in all that the voice would show me, tell me about what it really meant to be human. Stories as they were, was as important as the people that lived through them.

Soon the dreams changed, each night a new world, showing the hope, the love and sometimes the pain in the people's eyes. He was delicate with me, never showing me more than a child my age should see. That I would discover again years later. He wanted one thing for me, faith in humanity and all it had to give. Perhaps he knew, understood that I was the key in it all.

"Can I go there someday?" I asked the voice one late night when the moon was slowly rising outside my bedroom window. In the living room below I remember hearing my father's early Christmas party in full swing. He always had then over a week before Christmas though I was never allowed down when the guests arrived.

As I heard the laughter, he chuckled so warmly that I swear I could feel him smiling. "Maybe, if that's what you want to do. Then I'll gladly be your guide."

I was overwhelmed with excitement at the idea of following my guardian angel on an adventure of a life time. It took all of my will power not to jump of out bed with glee though I'm not sure if my father would have noticed or not.

As for my voice, I'm sure for him, it was a gift to know that I like Alfred wanted more than the life we were given. So, he could have been dancing around the room as much as I wanted to.

I wondered who he was yet I never did have the courage to ask. A fear that he might disappear if that secret was revealed. But then one late afternoon soon after I was staring up at the grey sky waiting for the new layer of snow that he came to me again.

"Peter?"

"Yeah?" I answered prepared to be transported but, all I saw was the sky above me.

It took him a moment to speak again. "Sorry Buddy." In that moment, I felt my world shatter. "I have to go."

"No, you don't." I said sitting up, snow sticking to my hair. "You can stay with me. Please?"

Like always his voice was gentle, trying to show me something I couldn't see. "I would love to but I have other places to explore but, I'll be here on the wind when you need me."

"But, but," my voice cracked, tears threatened to fall. "I love you."

"I love you too Peter," he paused as I felt a warm hug embrace me. "Just call for me and I'll be there."

I gasped at the air, trying to cling to the voice I had grown to call a friend. "But."

"Mattie."

"Mattie." Tears flowed freely down my face and into the snow below me. "Why?"

Suddenly the hands that always had been invisible appeared. Arms hidden by a thick jacket, mittens on each large hand, handmade and warm. As for his face, it was how I imagined, soft and kind with blond hair trying to hide his angelic blue eyes. In that moment, it registered to me how much he looked like Alfred but I didn't question it as he held on to my shoulders, a smile plastered on his face. "Because, there's a time for everything ad soon I'll be time for another."

"I, I don't understand." I started to hiccup as I tried to frantically wipe my eyes. I didn't want to cry in front of him like that but it didn't stop the flood of tears.

"You will." With one last hug, he was gone along with apart of my heart.

God, how it felt like I had lost so much in those few moments.

I wasn't ready but, then again, I wasn't the only one.

A few miles away Alfred was ease dropping wondering why his mother would be talking in hush whispers to a man he was sure she hated. "He bought him a new sled." She said, a smile weakly pulled across her face and in that moment Alfred saw how much his mother had truly aged. Sure, he noticed the small differences years before when Matthew died. The spark that once filled her brown eyes had dimmed, her smile that never left her face became fake, lost in the moment forever.

"Yeah, I think that's a wonderful idea." She said nodding into the phone, she turned her back to him and soon he lost interest. He'd have enough time to deal with his own anger knowing that his mother's mind is made up for reason she didn't understand. Chenoa had invited my Papa and I over for a small Christmas party. It was much different than the ones my father was known to throw.

She refused to allow alcohol, though she knew her son had been sneaking it for years. It was a battle she wished to avoid, no matter how painful it was to ignore.

"Berwald," She started once the sound of Alfred's heavy feet where above her head. "Can I make one request?"

"I suppose." My father answered. He was certain what she was going to ask. So when the question came, he was truly at a loss for words.

"Please forgive him." Her voice sent a chill down his spine. It wasn't her, no her voice was strong, confident and independent. The voice seemed to be on the verge of tears and even after so many years apart it still made his heart ache.

"Alfred?" It was an obvious answer because to think it was the other was too much, even for my father to grasp. Only when my father was met with silence that he inhaled slowly, holding the phone to the point of nearly breaking. "I could never blame him, it wasn't' his fault it," He paused, his heart heavy, "it wasn't your fault either." He started at the wall, focusing on a single spot. He was no longer there listening to her answer, instead he was years away listening to the loud laughter of twin boys as they played in the fresh snow.

"Papa come out and play." One called out, blue eyes slightly hidden under a thick brown cap as his nose glowed a bright pink.

My father gave a tired smile as he reached for his jacket. "For a bit then both of you inside for a bath and hot coco."

Another boy appeared, his snowsuit covered in a thin layer of snow. "With marshy mellows?" He gave a wide grin that was missing a few front teeth.

This got my father laughing as he scooped up both boys in his strong arms. Soon the twins joined him in the laughter as snowballs started to fly. It was a sound he missed the most in this world. Pure happiness, joy only found in the innocence of youth.

"Dear are you still there?"

In that moment, my father blinked, the twins faded from his vision as well as their laugher. "Yes," he said pulling off his glasses to rub he bridge of his nose. "We'll be there around seven."

"Okay, good bye."

Even after hearing the soft click he stood there staring up at the ceiling hearing the soft sounds of far off laughter.


End file.
